


The One Left Behind

by turps



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-19
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 18:58:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A JC centric AR, one where he didn't join Nsync.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for DWNOGA, the popslash holiday Christmas exchange, in 2009.
> 
> I didn't actually post it then, scrapping it in favour of another story.
> 
> Thank you to Sperrywink and Nopseud for beta reading back in the day. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

It's noon when JC wakes; wraps the blanket around his waist and crawls out of bed, making his way to his small kitchenette. The blanket is made of some kind of thin material -- blue swirls surrounded by tiny white flowers -- and when he walks it slithers across the carpeted floor. JC's tired, worn down by late nights that have left his eyes shadowed. He blinks as he switches on the coffee pot and leans against the wall, face to the sunbeams that pierce through the holes in the curtains.

There's a take out carton on the bench, slimy noodles piled in one side and watery brown sauce congealing on the bottom. They'd bought the noodles from a street vendor, steam from the cart billowing into the night air as Kyle grabbed the carton and they walked home arm in arm, laughing together and snatching kisses in dark corners. They'd shared the white plastic fork and fed each other noodles that slithered out of their mouths to the ground.

"JC?" Kyle questions, his voice made rough with sleep. He's rolled to the middle of the bed, arms outstretched an eyes half closed. There's a strand of hair stuck to his bottom lip and Kyle pulls it free and rolls again. On his front he gropes for the clock on the floor, peering at the display. "Shit."

JC pushes the carton into the sink and takes down two mugs from the hooks on the wall, says, "What's up?"

"I've missed that casting," Kyle says and flops down on the bed, his arm outstretched and face pressed against the pillow.

The coffee pot is only a quarter full. JC tightens his grip on the blanket and heads back for the bed. The carpet feels gritty under his bare feet and he imagines that he's walking on dirt, layers of it tracked in on their shoes. He sits, feet pulled up and heels tucked against the mattress as he reaches down, groping for his pants. Hooking them up by the belt he pushes his hand in a pocket, pulling out his pager.

JC rubs at his eyes and looks at the missed numbers. The last one belongs to Lynn and JC already knows what she wants. At least, what Justin wants, the same thing he's wanted every time he's contacted JC this week. JC to audition for some boyband Justin's convinced will be famous.

JC presses delete.

 

~*~*~*~

Kyle comes home with pizza and a bottle of soda. He puts them on the tiny breakfast bar, the box next to the stacks of bills, head-shots and post-it notes that cover the surface. Hungry, JC gets off the bed and presses a kiss against Kyle's mouth, lingering a little, his hands against Kyle's back before he pulls away to get the plates.

"They had a special on veggie delight," Kyle says. He kicks off his shoes and peels off his shirt, throwing it onto the back of a chair. There's a birthmark on Kyle's shoulder-blade and JC presses his thumb over the brown mark, feeling the bone. Kyle sighs and takes a half-step back. "I didn't get the job."

"There'll be another one." JC flattens his hand, feeling Kyle breathe. "The bar over on fifth is hiring again and there's that casting call tomorrow. We can go together."

"I thought they wanted young teens?" Kyle says. He reaches past JC, grabbing the pizza box and sits on the unmade bed. "That ship's sailed."

JC grins. "You're saying I'm looking old?"

"I'm saying you're no young teen." Kyle reaches out and fastens his hand around JC's wrist pulling him forward. Caught off-balance JC drops the plates and they clatter as they hit the floor, JC laughing as he topples down and lands heavily on Kyle.

"Bastard," JC says fondly and pulls up his legs, cardboard crumpling as he kneels on the corner of the pizza box. "I look fantastic."

"Never said you didn't." Kyle wraps his arms around JC and it's too hot to lie like this but JC doesn't attempt to move, sweat beading along his hairline and the back of his neck. "Did the kid call again?"

"His mom." JC thinks about sitting next to the open window, the phone in his lap and a heat haze blanketing the city as he talked to Lynn. "She believes in this group. They all do."

Kyle wraps his leg over JC's and has his hand pressed against the small of JC's back. "You should go talk to them. If they're that certain."

JC shakes his head. He's already thought this through and going to see Justin is taking a step back. JC's got a new life now, and he's going to succeed, even if right now things aren't going as he expected. "I told her no."

"She was alright with that? Kyle asks and JC slumps down, his chin against Kyle's shoulder.

"She said she understood and wished me luck." JC closes his eyes, remembering Justin's muffled protests, the way Lynn sounded genuinely sincere as she wished him well. "Justin said I was an idiot."

"Justin doesn't know what he's talking about." Kyle moves his hand, sliding his fingers under the hem of JC's shirt. The touch tickles and JC focuses, trying to stay still. "You're going to be amazing right here."

"I am," JC says. He pushes aside the doubts that crowd close. He's only been in LA a few months, there's plenty of time to find work and he'd promised himself that he wouldn't give up, that this is the place for resurrected dreams; all he has to do is hang on and believe. He adds softly, "I'm going to be amazing."

~*~*~*~

The Christmas tree is set up next to the window. It's small, plastic and decorated with a string of red berry lights and hung with silver snowflakes that JC has made himself. His fingers are covered in tiny cuts from carefully cutting tin foil and he sucks his thumb into his mouth, watching as Kyle pulls on a jacket and checks his wallet.

I won't be out late," Kyle says and when he kisses JC on the cheek his breath smells strongly of mint.

JC doesn't call him out on the lie. Feet under the blankets, he clutches his pen tightly and looks down at the newspaper that's spread open on his lap. There's a themed diner looking for staff who can sing; he circles that ad with red, says quietly, "Have a good time."

"You should come," Kyle's already backing toward the door. He hesitates a moment, giving an illusion of truth to an insincere invitation. "Okay then," he says, slipping away.

Alone, JC pushes the newspaper to one side, letting it flutter to the floor as he sinks back onto the pillows. He turns his head and looks at the presents arranged under the tree, shiny gold paper and curling ribbon, fat robins and grinning snowmen disguising square boxes and yet more packets of underwear and socks. Home made labels and messages written in red pen. Right now JC misses his family so much that it hurts.

He's thinking about calling them, weighing the effort of lying -- that sure, everything is _fine_ \-- against the comfort of talking to his mom. Listening as she talks about baking cookies and stringing lights, years familiar routines that JC pictures as he stares up at the ceiling, at the damp patch in the corner and spiderweb of cracks in the plaster. Rolling on his side he picks up the phone, putting it on the bed and almost drops it again when it suddenly begins to ring.

JC think about not answering, but it could be his mom or even a job, that advert he auditioned for the week before. When JC answers it's Justin. He's laughing, seemingly uncaring that JC's actually picked up. JC lies on his back, the receiver against his ear and waits.

"JC! Hi!" Justin sounds excited, laughter bleeding through his words. "I wanted to call you. Tell you happy holidays!"

"Happy holidays," JC repeats, is about to thank Justin for calling when Justin starts laughing again.

"Sorry, sorry. Joey's trying to teach Lance how to tango, I have to see this. Talk to Chris a moment."

There's a clatter of sound, muffled talking and JC's saying, "Justin. Wait. Justin!"

"He's gone." Chris. Or at least JC assumes it's Chris, he's never actually talked to him, but he's heard plenty of stories, back when Justin was pushing the group. "He's trying to take pictures with Tony."

"Tony?" JC questions and Chris draws out a sigh like JC's some kind of moron.

"Lucca. Sings in our group. Used to be a musketeer with Justin. Ring any bells?"

"I'm not stupid," JC says, and then adds. "And it's a mouseketeer."

"Whatever," Chris says. There's a thump, the sound of footsteps and laughter that fades abruptly, then crunching, directly in JC's ear.

"Are you eating?"

"Cookies," Chris says. "Specifically Lance's cookies, and you are stupid because if you weren't you would have joined the group."

JC tugs at the pillow and goes back to staring at the ceiling, at the stain that looks like a dog with three legs and a huge head. "I'm happy here, I didn't..."

Another crunch and then Chris is speaking, cutting off JC. "Whatever you're about to say you're still stupid, and I need to go to work."

He ends the call before JC can think of a reply.

~*~*~*~

JC pulls out a shirt and then drops it in a box. There are gaps in the closet now, the left side almost empty apart from the row of plastic hangers and a paint-splattered t-shirt that's crumpled on the floor. JC scoops that up too, dropping it on the others. He'd planned to be on the road by noon but already it's half past one. Not that it really matters. He's got no strict schedule to keep and JC decides to take his time, make sure he's ready before finally leaving.

JC goes into the bathroom, gathers his toothbrush and paste, his shaving kit and shampoo. He leaves the damp towels and slithers of soap, considers taking the fish-print shower curtain he bought when he first arrived, but decides to leave it It would be too much trouble to take down and even though he wants to strip the apartment bare, take everything he owns or bought he's trying not to be petty. It's hard sometimes, but he tries.

Finally he's done. JC takes in the spaces between CDs and books, the faded patch of wall where he'd hung a picture. It's the place where he's lived for nearly a year, but there's nothing of JC's remaining. All he's got are memories and he considers leaving a note for Kyle, saying a last goodbye. JC doesn't, any civil words suffocated by memories of finding Kyle in their bed with the woman who lives in 12a.

Still, leaving isn't easy and JC grabs the last box off the floor and makes himself walk out the door, posting the keys behind him. He doesn't look back as he walks, chin up and fingers tight against cardboard as he approaches his car. Inside it's full of his belongings, a few boxes and bags, clothes jammed against the window. JC opens the driver’s seat door and slides inside. Sets the box on the passenger seat and adjusts his seat, tells himself he's not teasing out his goodbye.

Finally, JC drives away. He pulls out onto the road and reaches out, switching on the radio and hoping to find some cheerful song, something that'll chase away the silence and the thoughts in his head. What he hears is Justin singing and JC's immediate reaction is to change the channel. After the concert at Christmas Nsync are everywhere and each time he hears their name JC's reminded of what he's thrown away. In the end he leaves the song playing, listening to Justin and trying to match the remaining voices with the others.

Chris and Lance are easy and JC thinks about Justin, how happy he'd sounded as he talked about finally finding a bass and how Chris' voice was insane. Joey was a little harder at first, his voice blending so well, but now JC can hear him easily. Him and Tony, and the familiar ache of regret makes itself known as inevitably JC thinks of what he's turned down. Rejecting potential fame for a life and love that was ultimately one-sided.

The song ends and JC keeps driving. Fingers curled around the steering wheel, the window half down, the songs on the radio meaningless noise. He's running away and going forward and he keeps on driving through the time for dinner, through a sunset that turns the sky blazing red, then into the night, the highway bright and cutting through shadows. Finally, stomach rumbling, he stops for gas.

He rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, yawns and heads toward the shop to pay. It's warm inside, empty apart from JC and the man behind the counter. There's a cooler along one wall and JC grabs a soda, a packet of chips, and on instinct, Nsync's CD when he sees it on the display. "Twenty on pump two, please."

"Is that all?" The man asks, and JC nods, handing over his money. Pushing his wallet in his pocket he takes hold of the CD, soda and chips, holding them against his chest as he goes back to his car. Opening the driver’s door he stretches over the seats and drops everything on top of the box on the passenger seat, then gets back out again, grabbing the nozzle of the pump.

Filling the tank JC leans against the side of his car, watching as the numbers on the pump change. He's only got a limited amount of money, his meagre savings from the last year and his last wage-check from the diner. There's enough for gas money and a few weeks in a cheap motel. Just enough for yet another new beginning.

The nozzle clanks against the pump when JC sets it back down, then gets back into his car. Yawns then starts to drive once more.

~*~*~*~

JC's just put down a basket of fries on the table when the bell rings and he has to hurry away, vaulting onto the counter. Lined up with Beth on one side, Shaun on the other he launches into the routine. Smiling -- always smiling, he begins to sing, careful of the narrow and cramped space. Which is when he sees Justin. He's sitting with the rest of Nsync, taking over one of the curved booths at the back of the diner, the ones partially hidden away and out of JC's section. Justin's hair and skin is tinted purple by the neon picture above his head and he's about to take a bite of hamburger when he sets it back down, looking surprised as he points at JC.

JC fixes his smile, steps to the left, to the right, kicks and twirls, looking everywhere but the booth at the back of the room. Then the song ends and he jumps to the floor, acknowledging the polite clapping with a wave. It's then he finally looks and sees that Justin squeezing past Lance and Joey. Tony grinning as Chris continues to eat, staring at JC all the while.

"JC!" Justin's making his way through the tables and when he gets close he pulls JC into a brief one-armed hug. "I thought you were in LA?!"

"I was," JC says, thinking about excuses to explain why he's back, but Justin's grabbing his arm, pulling him back toward the booth.

"Come and see everyone. Tony's here, and you can meet Joey, Lance and Chris."

"Justin, wait." Helplessly JC looks over at his supervisor who's putting striped straws in the dispenser. "I'm working, I can't..."

Emma jams in a last straw, looks up and says, "You can have five minutes."

"Thanks," JC says, tugging off his hat as Justin all but pushes him into the booth next to Tony. It feels like forever since JC's last seen him and he finds himself pulled into another hug, twisted around, the edge of the table digging into his side. "Hey."

"You're looking good," Tony says, pulling back and staring directly at JC. "You between jobs right now?"

"Aren't I always?" JC shrugs, wanting to do anything but talk about his long succession of menial jobs since the mouse club was cancelled. he smiles then, taking in how Tony looks tired but happy. "How's life in a boyband treating you?"

"It's fantastic." Justin has climbed past Lance and Joey and is back in his former place. He leans forward, elbows resting on the table. "We've got a record out and we're famous in Europe. They love us over there. You should see the signs and the letters. We're going to be huge, JC."

It's nothing that JC hasn't heard before from Justin, and like always JC believes it. "I've heard your record, it's good."

Justin frowns a little. "Some of the tracks could use tweaking..."

"What Justin means is, thank you," Joey says and leans across the table offering his hand, his arm brushing against a basket of fries loaded with ketchup. "And as he's apparently got the manners of a rock. Hi, I'm Joey."

JC knows, he's been reading interviews while listening to the CD. He smiles, says, "Hi."

"I'm Lance," Lance says, and when he reaches out his hand is cool in JC's.

JC squeezes once, says, "Nice to meet you."

Which only leaves Chris, and he's still staring at JC before he bares his teeth and says, "I'm Chris, I'm the crazy one."

JC doesn't offer his hand, says, "I'm JC, the one that smells like grease."

Chris looks directly at JC, as if cataloguing everything he can see, from JC's stupid hat flattened hair to the pins that are attached to his suspenders. "It's good that you didn't join. The grease smelling one would be a hard sell."

"It would," JC agrees, his hands pressed against his thighs so he doesn't mess with his hair. "I guess it wasn't meant to be."

"I guess," Chris says, and picks up his milkshake, taking a long drink while still watching JC.

~*~*~*~

The invitation arrives on a Tuesday morning. Late for his shift and clutching a travel mug of coffee and eating a slice of toast JC considers not checking his mailbox, but at the last second he changes direction, hoping that today is the day he gets good news -- an offer of work, an unexpected check, maybe some letters from home. What he does get is a selection of bills and tucked at the bottom of the pile, an invitation. It's on cream card with JC's name beautifully written on the front, but inside there's Justin's scrawled writing and the command _We're having a celebration. Come on over at 7 on Friday._

It's an unexpected invite and JC tries to remember if he's working this coming Friday. He hopes not, going to the party will be fun, with the bonus of getting to meet people that could hopefully help his career. Vowing that he'll change his shift if needed JC looks in the envelope and sees a square piece of paper. He pulls it out and it's a printed copy of an address, Justin's signature on the bottom and suddenly JC's taken back years, sitting on the set of the Mouse Club, watching as Justin practiced his autograph, his brows pulled together in an intent frown.

JC jams the invitation in his bag along with the bills. It's no surprise that Justin's on his way to fame now and JC can't help a pang that he let that chance slip through his fingers. Not that the pang lasts for long. Maybe this isn't the life JC expected but that doesn't mean that it's bad. He's got a place to live, a job, the beginnings of a good group of work friends. Maybe his face isn't on the front of a magazine but that's okay. There'll be other opportunities for him, JC has to believe that.

Opening the door he steps outside into bright sunshine. Slipping his sunglasses over his eyes he takes a long drink of coffee and heads for his car, getting inside. Travel mug safely in the holder JC starts the engine and switches on the radio and immediately _Tearing Up My Heart_ begins to play. JC grins and can't resist singing along.

~*~*~*~

It turns out the celebration is little more than a dressed-up excuse for a party.

Unsure of the dress code JC's wearing black pants and a white shirt. He's got a tie tucked in his pocket but when he approaches Justin's house he knows he won't need it, not when there are two guys sitting on the lawn eating burgers and a girl with bare feet standing close to the door, talking to an older woman. Paying the driver JC exits the cab and makes his way up the house. He's clutching the invitation but when he approaches the door the woman smiles and steps to the side.

"Just go on in, food's out back."

Thanks," JC says, and steps into the house. Inside it's crowded but not uncomfortably so. All the chairs and couches are occupied by a variety of people from a baby on a man's lap to an elderly lady whose earrings jingle when she moves. There's nobody there that JC knows so he keeps walking, smiling at the people he passes and making his way toward the open French doors that lead to outside. Before he gets close he can hear the sound of someone laughing, the splash of water and a blood-curdling yell. Not that anyone seems to take notice, even when Justin comes barreling into the house, his clothes soaked through and sneakers squelching.

Seeing JC he slides to a halt, grinning wide. "JC, you came!" Arms outstretched Justin moves in for a hug but JC takes a step back, his hand held in front of him.

"Rain-check when you're dry."

Justin shakes his head, causing water to splatter against JC's face. "I can do that, come on, everyone's outside."

"Coming," JC says, and follows Justin outside. It's busier out there with multiple people clustered around the pool and the area of the garden set aside for the grill and table of food. Justin clutches JC's sleeve, water seeping through the fabric as he points at various people.

"That's Joey's dad at the grill. You know my mom, and that's Joey's mom talking to her." Justin pushes himself up on tip-toes and yells. "Mom, JC's here!"

Lynn says something to Joey's mom and then starts to walk toward them, smiling all the while. "JC, it's good to see you. I'm glad you could come."

JC smiles in return, says, "Me too. It looks like quite the party."

"They deserve it," Lynn says, obviously proud. "They're making quite the name for themselves." She rests her hand against Justin's for a moment then leans in and says, "I need to make the rounds. Help yourself to food, there's plenty," before walking away with a last smile.

Justin looks around then moves even closer to JC, pitching his voice slightly lower. "She was positive you were the right fit for the group, but then you said no and we thought of Tony and he's fantastic, he blends right in and...." Abruptly, Justin stops talking. "Well he's good, like you."

Nice save, J," JC says, and can't help being amused. "The time wasn't right to join, I had things I needed to do and...."

"You're stupid," Chris finishes from somewhere from behind JC. JC twists around and sees that Chris is soaked through like Justin, his hair slicked back and water dripping from the end of his nose. "Maybe scared too, but stupid for sure."

JC frowns, wondering why Chris would even think it's okay to say that. JC wasn't scared and he'd certainly not stupid. "Not wanting to join your group isn't stupid or cowardly, and you don't even know me."

"That's true," Chris says, and then he's wrapping his arm around JC, seemingly uncaring that he's getting JC wet. "Let's go remedy that. We'll talk over a burger."

"I don't...." JC trails off as he's steered toward the table of food, and somehow, before he's got time to protest, he finds himself with a plate of food in one hand, a bottle of beer in the other and Chris herding him toward a sunny spot close to the pool.

"There, now we can talk." Chris folds himself down to the grass, his own plate of food in his lap. His nose has stopped dripping now and he pulls off his t-shirt, dropping it to the ground with a splat. "You were telling me how you weren't stupid."

"Because I'm not." JC picks up his burger and points it at Chris before taking a bite. "I don't know why you think I am."

"You passed up the chance of fame and fortune," Chris says, poking dubiously at a small amount of salad on his plate. "But it does mean you don't spend 24/7 working. Maybe I'm the stupid one."

Personally JC doesn't think so. Despite what he's saying Chris doesn't appear unhappy, the opposite in fact as he bites at a chicken leg while basking in the sun. "You don't mean that."

Chris' mouth curls up and he says, "Right," then goes on. "Tell me about Justin. I need to stock up my blackmail material."

JC considers. He feels a certain amount of mouse loyalty toward Justin but at the same time, enjoys sharing just how big of a dork he can be. JC begins to talk.

~*~*~*~

JC frowns at the sound of the door opening. It's close to the end of his shift and he wants to start closing duties and go home. Instead he fixes his face into a smile and then turns, already saying, "Good evening."

"Hi," Chris says in return. He looks tired and when he lowers himself to sit at one of the tables near the counter he grimaces, rubbing at his knees.

A last wipe of the ketchup bottle and JC pulls out his note pad as he goes to take Chris' order. "What can I get you?"

"More hours in the day, new joints, Lou's head on a plate," Chris says and JC easily recognises one of those days where nothing seems right. He's had plenty of those himself and he pushes his note pad back in his pocket, knowing what Chris needs.

"How about a chocolate shake? On the house."

"Giving away profits, JC. Now that's stupid," Chris says, but he looks amused as he adds, "Please."

Making shakes is second nature now and JC scoops out ice-cream and measures milk, setting the shake to blend while he cashes out the family who've been sitting in one of his booths. They leave a ten dollar tip and he smiles as he tucks it in his pocket and then gathers dirty dishes. Stacking plates and gingerly picking up soggy napkins, always wary of what he'll find underneath. Putting those on the plates he picks up the pile and heads toward the kitchen, opening the door with a bump of his hip. Dishes left near the washing station he goes back out front and washes his hands before taking the shake from the mixer and pouring it into a tall glass before adding a red striped straw.

"Thank you," Chris says, and takes a long drink of the shake, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. He stops sucking and wipes at his mouth with his hand. "That's good, you should come sit with me and share."

JC looks around the diner. Chris is the last customer here and there's nothing JC has to do that can't wait for a few minutes, he pulls out a chair and sits down. "Five minutes, then I need to finish cleaning up."

"That's long enough." Chris pushes the shake across the table toward JC. "Do you like working here?"

"Are you going to call me stupid if I do?" JC asks, but when Chris rolls his eyes JC answers seriously. "I do, it's hard work at times but I like the people I work with and I get to sing."

"On a bar," Chris says, more pointing out a fact than anything mean. "You're too good to be singing here."

JC takes a long drink of shake, delaying his reply. "Thanks, but I still won't join the group."

Chris leans back in his chair and shrugs. "You couldn't even if you wanted to, Tony's working out, he's part of us now. But you're still too good for here."

JC knows that it's true, it's why he's been making plans. "I'm thinking of going to school part time. Taking a music course."

"You should," Chris says, and he takes back the shake. "You've already let one opportunity slip away, don't waste your talent again."

"I'll take that as a compliment," JC says. "And that the stupid is implied."

Chris grins in reply.

~*~*~*~

JC's lying on his bed, surrounded by open books and papers. There's a song forming in his head but he's unable to write it down, the notes slipping away each time he picks up his pen. It's frustrating and JC's relieved when his phone rings meaning he's got an excuse to get up. He clambers off the bed, carefully of loose notes and pens and picks up the phone, tucking it between his ear and shoulder when he hears the familiar crackle of a long distance connection.

"Hey," JC says when he finally hears Chris. They've been swapping phone calls for months now, snatched five minute conversations where both are aware of the cost. It's not an ideal way to develop a friendship but it's one that's working for them, and JC looks forward to each call. "How did the concert go?"

"Insane." There's the sound of someone walking, a creak then Chris continues, "Justin counted five Mrs Timberlake banners, I'm surprised his head got through the door."

The phone wire stretches as JC goes over to his kitchen and picks up the kettle. Filling it he sets it on the stove and turns on a burner. "I suppose there were no banners for you."

Chris says, "Oh, I had banners, just no proposals of marriage."

JC smiles at the phone and leans against the counter. "So you're still a free man?"

"I am. In fact I think we should celebrate that."

JC takes a mug from the cupboard and drops in a tea bag, ensuring the string and tab is hanging over the side. "What are we going to do, drink beer and toast each other over the phone line?"

"Better than that," Chris says, and JC knows he's grinning. "We're coming back next week, getting a few days off before heading back on tour."

Pleased, JC leans against the counter, waiting for the kettle to boil. "That's fantastic. We can hit a club."

"That's what I was thinking; ditch the kids for a while."

"That explains it, you only want me for my age," JC says, making Chris laugh.

"You've got me, I'm only attracted to the fellow ancient one."

"Attracted, really?" JC says, and more than anything wishes he could see Chris' face.

"Yeah," Chris replies, and JC can't help smiling.

~*~*~*~

It's strange having Chris in the apartment. A few meetings and months of phone calls have made them close, but always in a removed way, where it's easy to talk and share secrets over an ocean. Now that Chris is actually here JC feels awkward as he talks while buttering bread for sandwiches. "Then Professor Smith said I should enter my song, but I don't know."

"You should," Chris says. He's curled up in the easy chair near the window, head back and eyes half-closed. They're supposed to be going clubbing soon but JC suspects they won't be leaving the apartment, not when Chris looks so tired. "You liked the song when you were composing it."

"Well, yeah." JC adds meat and cheese to the bread and starts to slice a tomato. "But what if I enter and they don't like it?"

"Then you try somewhere else later, or else you write something else that's better."

JC adds the last slice of bread and cuts down the middle of the sandwich. He can't explain exactly but the thought of putting out his work and having it rejected makes him feel tense, like he's being told he's not good enough all over again. "Or I could keep it to myself."

"You're better than that," Chris says, and JC doesn't want to turn around and see Chris watching, assessing JC's every move. He puts the sandwiches on a plate and starts to clean up, wiping up seeds with a sponge.

"I've nothing to prove, Chris."

There's the sound of Chris moving, footsteps, then he's standing next to JC. "You've everything to prove. You need to show people how fantastic you are."

JC drops the sponge in the sink, fighting a smile. "You think I'm fantastic?"

"You're not bad." Chris takes a step closer, until he's pressed up against JC. "For an amateur."

"I try my best," JC says, and rests his hand against Chris' back, thinking of his song. "What if they do hate it?"

"Then you mentally call them stupid and ignorant, get drunk and then create something amazing."

JC barks out a laugh. "It's that easy?"

"It's that easy," Chris agrees. "Submit it, take a risk."

JC turns so he's facing Chris, says, "How about I take another risk first?" He dips his head and it seems like forever since he's done this. His hands against Chris' sides, holding on as he runs his tongue over Chris' lip and into his mouth. Loving the way Chris responds by pushing against him, obviously needy.

"I don't know," Chris says, his eyes bright when JC pulls back slightly. "You might not be ready for risks. You should show me again."

”Good idea,” JC says, and does.

~*~*~*~

"Last chance, you can still come with us," Chris says.

JC shakes his head, watching as the piles of luggage are arranged on the carts. "I'll come see you in the summer vacation."

Chris sighs, long and tragic. "If you have to pick school over me, make sure you win that competition."

"I intend to," JC says, and side steps a luggage cart pushed at speed by Justin. "I'll get my music on air yet."

"You'd better." Chris moves close to JC, shielded by Kelly and Joey and yet another cart piled high with bags. "I'm going to miss you."

JC's going to miss Chris too, and he wishes he could show him how much. Instead he risks a squeeze of his hand before stepping away and handing over a small bag of hard candy. "For the journey, and phone me when you can."

"Promise," Chris says and with a last smile he's escorted away, Justin jumping at his back, Tony and Lance at his side, Joey walking backwards as he waves at Kelly.

Kelly wipes at her eyes and blows a kiss, says, "We'll see them soon."

"We will," JC says, and knows that it's true.


End file.
